


CDs and Motorbikes

by Asmicarus



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Chance Meetings, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Restaurants, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:01:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22899193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asmicarus/pseuds/Asmicarus
Summary: After a particularly vicious fight with his brothers, Yut-Lung finds himself lost in the backstreets of New York hopelessly alone. That is until a kind stranger takes pity on him, and may even convince Yut-Lung good people do in fact exist in the world.
Relationships: Lee Yut-Lung/Shorter Wong
Comments: 18
Kudos: 95





	CDs and Motorbikes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! It's my first time writing in a while, and my first time for this fandom!
> 
> I would like to briefly mention that I only lived in Asia for a while, so my Cantonese is not very good. If any Cantonese speakers see any mistakes, please feel free to point them out along with any spelling/ punctuation/ grammar issues. Or just issues in general. Please feel free to correct me! :)
> 
> There are brief mentions of abuse in this story, but nothing too heavy. Nevertheless, if it makes you uncomfortable, I would proceed with caution. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Banana fish or its characters in any capacity. I do not own any music of Billy Joel and neither am I profiting from it or this story in general. Any relations to any people living or dead is completely coincidental. 
> 
> Finally, please enjoy! :)

It was Sun Tzu that once said ‘If your opponent is of choleric temper, irritate him’, and regarded as one of the greatest philosophers and strategists of his generation, or ever in history, to put it lightly, Yut- Lung was beginning to think that philosophers, no matter how great their minds were, weren’t actually very good at giving advice. Yut- Lung’s brothers, as it stood in the current, past, and probably every future framework of the turbulent Lee family dynamic, were absolutely his opponents. Similarly, as the famous proverb described, they were most certainly of choleric temper, sometimes spectacularly so. However, it always seemed that when Yut- Lung found it within himself to obey Sun Tzu’s famous words, it landed him in predicaments that he would have found otherwise less than favourable. In fact, the only person who ended up with an unfathomable amount of irritation and a choleric temper at the end of the entire fiasco was him. In Yut- Lung’s humble, and rather philosophical opinion, Sun Tzu could take his advice and shove it right where the sun didn’t shine. If war was indeed an art, Yut-Lung was preparing every brush and easel as he silently fumed after the day’s dramatic events, and, he promised himself, that would be the very last time he will ever take Sun Tzu’s advice. It was that man’s very words alone that had landed him here. Walking along the backstreets of New York alone in the pitch-black night.

The night itself could only be described as dark. That much was obvious, any idiot could tell that the night was dark, but it especially stood out to Yut- Lung as he continued to walk alone with that very same darkness looming behind him like a phantom. Only the soft glow of orange street lamps lit his way like yellow puddles of light on the pavement, providing only a morsel of security. Speaking of puddles, it was also absolutely pouring with rain, as if whatever deity watching over him had decided his day hadn’t been traumatic enough. His long, saturated hair hung limply in front of his eyes and his thin silk jacket, which he had pulled tightly across his body, was soaked through. He put his foot straight in a waterlogged pothole and it soaked up to the ankle. Not that it mattered. His socks were wet anyway.

To top off the whole situation in a miserable, miserable finale… he was hopelessly lost. Yut- Lung felt himself lose hope, and just a little bit of his remaining sanity, when he passed “O’Neill’s”. The closed down Irish Pub had probably never seen a real Irishman set foot through the doors. It was the third time that night he had passed it. But through every ounce of utter resentment he felt at going around in circles, and the absolute antagonism at the sheer incompetence of the ability of Google maps to just _fucking re-centre,_ he would rather be eaten alive by inner city rats than call his brothers for help. Or for a Lee family car to pick him up. That would be letting them win, and he would rather go a full six feet under than let that happen. It was their fault he was out here in the first place, shivering and looking like a pathetic drowned stray in need of rescue.

Earlier that day, and the reason this whole scenario had descended so appallingly quickly, was a meeting with some Vietnamese representatives on the conduction of business between territories. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, especially when situations were as tense as they were in the current climate of the conglomerates. Things had not progressed the way they should have. Wang Lung had lost his temper when backed into a corner, and Hua Lung had disagreed with the division of cuts. Yut- Lung tried to get a word in edgeways but to no avail. The way his eldest brother had turned on him in times of high stress had been bitter to watch and even more bitter to experience. It was Sun Tzu that also said: ‘Divide and Conquer’. It was no secret, no matter how hard the Lee family tried to hide it, that their clan was deeply divided, and it was the last thing they had wanted to portray in front of their enemies is that they were easy to conquer. It would not have happened if his brother had not pushed him.

In the tense heat of the moment Wang Lung had practically dragged him from the ornate room, but Yut- Lung had kept his dignity. Or at least he would like to think as dignified as he could be while being dragged like a rag doll. What he didn’t have in his brother’s strength, he made up for with his quick mind. He spared himself his brother’s fury when he began to storm away furiously. He didn’t know why his brother even tried anymore when the pair of them were the epitome of ‘blunt force’ and ‘immovable object’. Yut- Lung simply couldn’t take it anymore and had begun to leave of his own devices. He could hear Wang Lung’s bodyguards begin to shuffle after him, as they always did when he walked away, but this time he heard the unmistakable command of Wang Lung’s voice telling them,

“ 夠啦！” _That’s enough._ He spoke Cantonese. The language his mother used to speak to him, and Yut- Lung felt dread in his gut. The bodyguards ceased their advance, as if Wang Lung had cut their puppet strings. Yut- Lung continued his long strides out onto the busy streets of New York, feeling the chill of the air nip at his fingers and nose. However, he just heard the words of his brother in the distance as he walked away with a newfound vigour.

“He’ll come running back before the night is up. Let the brat learn his lesson.”

And with that, Yut- Lung was absolutely determined, come hell or high water, to make his brother pay for upsetting him…

Well, he was determined then.

Now with the rain beating down on him from above, and the ice-cold biting at every exposed area of skin, with nowhere to sleep, he simply felt an overwhelming sense of anger and resentment. He so desperately wanted to prove his brothers wrong. That he wasn’t as fragile and dependent as they all thought. That he could do things by himself. But at the same time, he was running out of options. He had run off with no food, no spare clothes, no money, and not the slightest slither of a plan. Gritting his teeth, he reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, trying to shield the screen from the rain only semi-successfully. The droplets bounced off, and the darkness of the screen reflected his own face mockingly, forcing him to swallow the weight of his defeat and picture listening to Wang Lung’s smug voice on the other end of the line as he personally went to pick him up from whatever godforsaken backstreet he was wandering.

He pressed the home button, expecting it to light up with his lock screen. Nothing. He pressed it again… Nothing.

No. Oh no.

If a straw could break a camel’s back, someone had just dumped a whole bale of hay on Yut- Lung’s metaphorical camel, and with the break of his camel’s back, also went the final shred of his temper. The realisation dawned upon him that he was stranded in the waterlogged backstreets of New York with no way to get home. More anger and resentment bubbled up beneath the surface of his carefully composed façade of self-control, until he realised that no one was around to see him break his mould of the Lee clan’s perfect son. He unfolded his arms from across his chest and he gripped his phone tightly before him, squeezing it as hard as he could. His face formed unpleasant lines with newly found outward displays of bitterness, and his entire form seemed to curl in on itself. His grip on the object of his anger grew tighter and tighter until his knuckles turned white, and in a fit of fury he would never usually be able to expose, he hurled his phone at the nearest hard object he could see, which just so happened to be a motorcycle chained up on the road nearby.

The crack of his phone breaking as it bounced against the bodywork of the motorcycle should have been far more satisfying than it actually was. The bike now had a deep dent in the frame, but Yut- Lung couldn’t care less. He silently fumed again, staring at his very much broken phone down in the road through rain-soaked eyelashes. He angrily swiped hair away from his face where it was sticking to his forehead. He didn’t want to look in a mirror right now. That might be enough to send him over the edge. Yut- Lung hated situations he couldn’t manipulate. He couldn’t stop it from raining, he couldn’t prevent the fact he was lost, he couldn’t make the conflict with his brothers disappear, he couldn’t-

“Hey, Miss! You just threw something at my bike!”

The voice immediately snapped Yut- Lung out of his internal thought, and the helplessness he had felt so strongly just moments before dissipated before he was gripped by overwhelming fear. Yut- Lung dared not turn around.

“Oi! Miss!” He couldn’t overpower this man, whoever he was. He sounded young, and pretty pissed off that he had thrown something at his motorcycle. This was when Yut- Lung’s mind snapped to the small bottle of perfume in his pocket. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

“Uhh, miss?” When a large hand landed heavily on Yut- Lung’s shoulder, he didn’t want to admit to himself that he yelped in fright. Without anyone around to protect him, he felt so exposed. No bodyguards. No knives. No guns. He was at this man’s mercy. He tore around as fast as he could and squirted a few good sprays of the perfume in the man’s face. It all happened too fast for Yut- Lung to get a good look at him.

“Ow! Fucking shit!” His attacker recoiled immediately, groaned, and dropped to his knees and rubbed furiously at his eyes. Yut- Lung’s immediate instinct was to run away as fast as he could… but something stopped him. He had just taken down a fully-grown man by himself… and he wanted to see what he looked like. So he could go back and tell his brothers what he had done. He held his hands close to his chest, defensive perfume at the ready, as if the man writhing on the ground would reach out and snatch at him. He edged around. When he finally calmed down enough to get a good look at the man, he wasn’t prepared for the clash of colours he was met with. Which, honestly, made Yut- Lung turn his nose up as if he had been personally insulted. If this man thought his eyes stung _now_ , he wasn’t looking in a mirror. The man continued to groan on his knees as Yut- Lung felt his lip curl at the bright yellow sweater and blue jeans. _Jeans._ All topped off with a hideously obnoxious purple mohawk.

“Water, lady. Do you have any water?” He groaned through his discomfort, and Yut- Lung took a careful step back. He snorted in distaste, but… he didn’t seem to be hostile. Just in pain.

“Firstly, I’m not a lady, and secondly, I don’t know if it got through your thick skull but there’s water falling from the sky practically in buckets.”

The man didn’t even bat an eyelid at the jab to his intelligence (not that he was even capable of batting eyelids in the current circumstances anyway). He turned his face to the sky in an attempt to wash the perfume from his eyes. Immediately, Yut- Lung began to feel a little awkward. The confidence and conviction he had in his self-defence was beginning to chip away. As he observed this man, he began to doubt he ever truly meant him harm. It was also then that Yut- Lung made two astute observations. One far more practical, the other rather selfish.

The first, and by far more practical observation, was that this man was Chinese. That didn’t surprise him a great deal. Their hotel was not too far from New York’s Chinatown, so it wasn’t uncommon to see New York’s Chinese population around the area. However, the second observation was the one that made Yut- Lung’s ears turn a shade of pink that could not be attributed to the cold. The man was incredibly handsome. Even as he lay flat on his back on the pavement with the rain in his face, the mucky tarmac dirtying the yellow of his jumper, his face was striking with a strong jaw, and he was a good height. Yut- Lung couldn’t believe he was allowing himself to think like this after the turbulent past five minutes. His mind has not made one logical leap since he left home.

After a few more moments of the yellow clad man writhing in agony, he sat up and attempted to blink his eyes open. Yut- Lung pursed his lips and his gaze darted around awkwardly, as if everything were more interesting than him. Or maybe it was the foreign feeling of guilt welling in his chest that he had indeed just doused an innocent man in Chanel No. 5.

“Are you- “ His voice sounded pathetic. “Are you going to be okay?” The man’s eyes were ever so slightly open now, albeit bloodshot to high heaven. 

“Oh, _I’ll_ be fine, but my poor bike has a crater in it! I knew I should have got it insured.”

The stranger blinked his eyes a few more times to clear them, and staggered up from his knees like he’d been punched in the face, and not simply spritzed with very expensive perfume. Yut-Lung took a cautious step back, still not entirely sure of this man’s intentions towards him and the level of anger at the damage he had caused to his seemingly precious bike.

“I’ll pay for it.” The man looked over the dented bodywork.   
“You damn will-“ He cut himself off suddenly when he turned around to get his first proper look at Yut-Lung. His eyebrows drew together as if he was trying to figure out who Yut-Lung was. As if they had met before. Yut-Lung could assure that he would remember anyone who looked like _that._ The man gave off the distinct impression that he looked like he’d grown two heads in the span of their first meeting. That or he was still seeing double. One or the other. Yut-Lung crossed his arms over his body at the intense scrutiny. A nervous habit he’d had since childhood. He whipped his eyes up and down the man before mustering up the courage to finally speak.

“What?” The man pointed an accusatory finger straight at him. Had he never been told it was rude to point?

“You really aren’t a chick?” All the nervousness he had within him previously made way for a raging fire of irritation as Yut-Lung snarled and took a step forward towards him. He must have done something right, because the other took a step back.

“Are you asking to get doused again? I can make that happen!”

It would be at this point, if he were in fact in his usual environment, where all of the Lee family underlings would scatter and go to the ends of the Earth to find whatever they could to make him happy. When a Lee was angry, people died. That’s just the way it went. However, he was not in his everyday environment right now, and the impact his anger had did not yield the results he was expecting. The man opposite him held his arms up in a mock surrender, as if he were dealing with nothing but a feral kitten. Yut-Lung could detect just the slightest smirk on his face too. It was infuriating.

“Geez, calm down pretty boy!” Yut-Lung’s face burned red. Was this man not put off by anything?

“Don’t tell me to calm down!”

“Is calling you ‘pretty boy’ allowed then?” He laughed out loud, and it was like dumping a bucket of ice-cold water on the raging inferno of his temper. His smile… his laugh… Yut-Lung pushed the intrusive thoughts aside.

“Just…point me in the direction of the Dominik Hotel, and I’ll be on my way.” The man let out a barking chortle that sounded suspiciously patronising.

“So you’re lost in the backstreets of New York, alone, wearing… is that Gucci?”

“Armani, you luddite.” The man rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. Wearing clothes with a price tag that could feed a small nation, in the dark having no clue where you’re going? Are you asking to get mugged?” Yut-Lung swiped his hair away from his face. He would have flicked it, but the rain was ruining his look. It would take so much conditioner to get it healthy and clean again.

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to… unlost myself! So, if you could please point me in the right direction, I’ll be out of your hair!” Honestly, being around such an irritating man was making him lose his composure and good education. There was a deep sigh from the other as he leaned up against his damaged bike, shaking his head from side to side like a dog to lose some of the excess moisture.

“Look. I live in Chinatown. It’s not far from the Dominik hotel. I’ll give you a ride to mine. You can dry off and charge your phone, and call a cab back.”

Everything about this proposed situation screamed “WRONG” at Yut-Lung in bold capital letters. Even people who weren’t from one of the most influential families of the criminal underworld didn’t just get on handsome stranger’s motorcycles. It was a one-way ticket to kidnap or murder.

“Why can’t you just take me to the hotel? Why do I have to go back to your place?” Yut-Lung asked with curious suspicion. The man groaned again, sounding more impatient.

“Look. I’ve left my family restaurant unattended on the only day my sister trusted me to look after things while she was out of town. If it gets smashed up now, I’ll kill myself before my sister can. I’m trying to be nice here. Are you taking the lift or not?”

He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. But the mystery and intrigue were calling to him. When would be the next time he got to do something rebellious and dangerous without consequences? If it just so happened to be with a handsome man in Chinatown… Yut-Lung was beginning to like his odds. Besides, even if something did happen to him, he could guarantee, and rest assured, that this man wouldn’t live much longer afterwards.

“Fine. But first tell me your name.” The man smiled widely, but in a way that was friendly and warm, and not a way that screamed ‘hi, I’m going to tie you up in a basement’. That, at the very least, was reassuring. He held out a hand.

“My Chinese name is Wong Li-Quang. But everyone just calls me Shorter.” Yut-Lung took his hand as if it would bite him, and shook it tentatively.

“Lee Yut-Lung. I don’t have an English name.” He reassured himself that ‘Lee’ was a common enough name to not be immediately identifiable with his family business.

“Do gweilo get your name right if you don’t have an English one?”

“I don’t really conduct my business with gweilo.”

Happily for him Shorter didn’t ask too many questions. He opened his top box and pulled out a helmet. He threw it to Yut-Lung, who fumbled around to catch it.

“Don’t you need this?” Shorter swung a leg over to straddle the bike, and upon insertion of the key, it purred to life, overpowering the sound of the rain.

“Hey, I’m already riding uninsured. If we have an accident, I’d rather take my chances than deal with the cops.” Yut-Lung could not get on board with that level of thinking, but cautiously slipped the helmet on and swung a leg over the bike. Really, it was undignified, and all a little exciting. He’d never been on a motorbike before. If his brothers could see him now, he’d be scorned so hard he’d physically burn.

“Where do I hold on?” Shorter kicked up the stand and revved the engine.

“That’s easy! Just hold onto me!” Yut-Lung wasn’t given the opportunity to comment on how inappropriate that was before bike was pulling forwards, and he lurched to wrap his arms around Shorter’s waist as his heart thudded in his chest. Under the helmet, his ears burned, but he attributed that, again, to the cold. Rain lashed against his visor, and he wasn’t sure Shorter could really see where he was going.

He was riding on an uninsured bike, having no clue where he was being taken, with said bike being driven by a shamelessly attractive stranger. It was dangerous and stupid…

But already, this was the most fun he’d had in years.

.

The ride wasn’t long, and that in itself was enough to make Yut-Lung feel like an idiot for getting lost. As they rode through the streets of New York, his hands began to freeze at Shorter’s waist, and he still couldn’t really see for the rain on his visor. Through the running streaks of water, familiarity began to become apparent to Yut-Lung as he could make out the recognisable shape of Chinatown. The neon signs outside shops and restaurants that were open twenty-four hours, the places with cheesy Americanised names like ‘Golden Dragon’ were abundant, but amongst the American places were smaller shops and restaurants that lovingly slotted themselves between the bigger buildings. Shorter pulled up in front of one of the smaller shop fronts. Yut-Lung jumped when he reached back to tap his leg in a signal for him to get off.

He swung his leg over to dismount, and Shorter followed quickly afterwards.

“See. That ride wasn’t so bad, was it?” Yut-Lung supposed that no, it was definitely not bad. “I’m just going to park the bike away. Go on inside.” He nodded to the small restaurant before them, as he led the bike by the handlebars to the small adjourning garage. Yut-Lung took a moment to admire the restaurant where Shorter apparently worked with his sister. The name ‘CHANG DAI’ was lit up outside the front in neon, only the ‘N’ was flickering in and out of the word, as if it couldn’t make up its mind whether it wanted to be there or not.

Yut-Lung pushed open the door, and the _Ding!_ of a bell sounded to signify the entry of a new customer. The place, as it went, was nothing special. It wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small either. All around, there were tables and chairs, with a few booths for bigger parties off to the side. None of the tables had cloths, as many Chinese restaurants didn’t, but each was fitted with an immaculately cleaned Lazy Susan in the centre. At the far side of the restaurant, a kitchen lay dormant next to a cash register. Yut-Lung chuckled at the memory of seeing many family members each trying to sneak off to the till after a meal to pay for the rest of the table. The door adjacent to the kitchen was ‘employees only’ and must have led to where Shorter and his sister lived. Yut-Lung couldn’t believe two people inhabited somewhere so small. He had a suspicion there was no en suites or saunas.

The ding of the bell behind him sounded, and he turned to Shorter as he removed his jacket and shook out his even- more- obnoxious- in- the- light mohawk. He saw Yut-Lung standing there blankly, and a look of embarrassment crossed his face.

“It’s… it’s not much. It’s no Dominik anyway…” He fumbled with the front shutters to cover the windows of the restaurant to the outside world. Yut-Lung jumped in to defend the place. It may have been a dime a dozen Chinese restaurant, but he could respect a man who worked hard for a living.

“I was actually thinking it was rather homey.” Shorter’s smile brightened the room.

“You think so? Well, thank you! You know you’d be welcome any time.” Shorter shook out his jacket and gestured to Yut-Lung for his clothes, that were dripping all over the floor. “Let me put your jacket on the radiator at least.”

Yut-Lung shrugged it off and handed it to Shorter. As he handed it to him, their fingers brushed, and a shock of energy buzzed up Yut-Lung’s arm. His heart pounded in his chest and he crossed his arms over his body, giving the impression of a chill even though the restaurant itself was warm on the inside. He needed something to distract himself, and quickly.

“So, what is like running a restaurant then?” Shorter hung the jackets over the radiator and hummed musingly.

“Not too hard to be honest. Just got to cook and keep the customers happy, clean up every once in a while.” Shorter propped himself up on the counter next to the cash register, and flicked the kettle on.

“Tea?”

“What kind?” Shorter winked.

“It’s our own special recipe.” Yut-Lung pulled back reflexively.

“I knew you were trying to poison me.”

Shorter laughed out loud. It was melodic and filled the room.

“I’m just kidding. It’s our own blend of leaves, but it’s super tasty. I would highly recommend.” Yut-Lung nodded with the confidence that if there was actually any poison in the tea, he would be able to smell it immediately, or recognise an off colour in the water. He was to poison as his brothers were to guns. Both of them just as lethal.

“So, just so I’m absolutely clear. You live in New York, right?” Shorter leaned his elbows on his knees, eyes intrigued as if Yut-Lung has piqued his interest ever so suddenly.

“Yes. I wasn’t born here, but I don’t get out too often.” Shorter whistled low and long.

“You must seriously not get out much to get that lost. Where were you born, anyway? Middle of nowhere in Timbuktu?” Yut-Lung huffed and sat down at a nearby table, crossing his legs comfortably at the ankle.

“Actually, for your information, I was born in Kowloon.”

Shorter sat up suddenly, and clapped his hands together, a massive smile on his face as if Yut-Lung had just told him an excellent joke.

“Hong Kong rich boy, I knew it!” He laughed. Yut-Lung didn’t like being made fun of. Even when Shorter’s observations were true. He felt out of his element and embarrassed. It felt like he was being accused of having no life experience because of his money. It was even worse because Shorter was right. There was never a point in his life where he hadn’t been sheltered from the outside world. From his birth, he had never wanted for anything in the material sense. Still, he felt the instinctive need to defend himself.

“My mother was a street vendor from Tai O, actually!” Shorter’s laughter evened off into a smirk. He must have seen the flash of remembrance pass Yut-Lung’s face. Maybe he was foolish enough to think it was a fond memory. It wasn’t. Sometimes Yut-Lung thought about how scared his mother must have been. Taken from a small fishing village and thrust into the centre of busy Kowloon, and then pregnant with him by his bastard of a father.

He must have been quiet for too long, as Shorter began to fill the empty void of conversation.

“My parents were from Guangzhou. They spent every penny on this place, making sure my sister and I grew up well and never went hungry. When they passed away, we knew we needed to keep its legacy going.” Yut-Lung peered up as Shorter began to pour the boiling water from the whistling kettle into a pot, and set out two cups.

“So, you’re from Guangzhou? Do you speak Cantonese and Mandarin then?” Shorter handed Yut-Lung his cup of tea, and he bought it up to his face to smell the pleasant aroma and let the warm steam caress his cheeks.

“My Mandarin is way better than my Cantonese, but I can just about manage.”

Yut-Lung took a small sip of the tea. He wasn’t expecting much. After all, he drank Da Hong Pao on a regular basis with various people of high importance. But as the taste hit his tongue, he found this homemade tea from a small Chinese restaurant felt more like home than any of the luxury expenses of the Lee residence. Shorter smiled at him.

“Really hits the spot, huh?” Yut-Lung closed his eyes and breathed in the scent. He only hummed in a vague positive response that he had, in fact, enjoyed it.

Shorter then shuffled off the counter to pull out the chair beside him. He flicked it backwards with ease and straddled it, leaning his forearms on the backrest. From this close, his eyes were more intense. They were warm and inviting, and the colour of deep mahogany. Rich and inquisitive. So soul-bearing that Yut-Lung had to look away. Shorter tried to seek out his gaze again, but spared him his bashfulness. 

“So, do you have any friends or family that can come and pick you up?” That struck a chord within Yut-Lung. He would not let his brothers find this place, lest Shorter be traumatised for life and the restaurant on the underworld’s blacklist.

“No.” he said a bit too quickly. “It’s just me.” Shorter frowned.

“You don’t have any friends?” Yut-Lung shook his head. He must have looked pathetic, but it was the truth. He wasn’t used to telling the truth.

“Well, that’s a real shame. New York can be rough at the best of times, never mind without any friends to pass the time with.”

Shorter got up for a brief second, and walked to the back of the kitchen, where he picked something off from the side of one of the fridges. It didn’t take long for Yut-Lung to recognise it as a small polaroid photograph. Shorter handed it to him, and Yut-Lung took it carefully. Framed within the walls of the image, two boys sat atop a broken-down car. One was Shorter with his legs dangling down, and he had his arm thrown around another other young man. He was blond and wearing a white t-shirt. Yut-Lung burned with jealousy when upon closer inspection, he could see the boy was stunningly beautiful.

“That’s my best friend. His name is Ash.” What kind of a name was ‘Ash’ anyway? Is this what Shorter was into? Blond haired gweilo? Yut-Lung worked hard to force down the envious hiss in his voice.

“He looks nice.” Shorter took the picture back and smiled as he admired it.

“Yeah. He was supposed to come over tonight, but…” In a split second, Shorter’s face fell into a solemn expression that could have also been interpreted as anger. “He was called into work.”

Judging by the look that crossed Shorter’s face, Yut-Lung took it as a que to drop the inevitable conversation about what this ‘Ash’ did for a living. However beautiful he was, he couldn’t have been doing anything good. Yut-Lung should have hated himself for jealous part inside himself that became satisfied with the knowledge. He was really starting to lose his mind. A long bubble bath and room service should do the trick when he returned to the hotel. But, his traitorous mind supplied to him unhelpfully, would that room service be as good as Shorter’s tea? The five-star food may have been sustenance, but it was not filling his belly and heart the same way he was sure Shorter’s homemade food would. Maybe… just maybe he would miss this place. Or it wasn’t the place he would miss…

Shorter had taken a stranger into his home. He had given him tea and made sure he was safe. No one had ever voluntarily done that for him before now. He was even an inconvenience to his own family. They considered his security wasted money. This one stranger had more kindness in his little restaurant than the Lee’s did in an empire that spanned nations. It was unfamiliar and scary, but at the same time, warm and inviting. He didn’t deserve to be picked up off the street by a kind man.

“I’ve just had the best idea. We can put on some music!” Shorter got up and wandered over to a tall rack of CD’s on the wall.

“Why on Earth would we do that?” Shorter huffed, but the ever-present smile remained plastered to his face.

“Because you need to lighten up. I can see you thinking.” Yut-Lung fixed his jaw and clenched his teeth. He shouldn’t have been that easy to read. He shouldn’t let his guard down.

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yeah you were. I could see smoke.” Yut-Lung pursed his lips and his brow furrowed.

“No, I was not!” From where he was sitting, he could just about see Shorter’s eyes roll.

“Whatever you say. I still like music, so let’s just unwind for a bit. It’s been kind of a long night.”

He was definitely right about that one. Yut-Lung took another delicate sip of tea and Shorter pulled out a CD from the rack with a small ‘aha’ as he apparently found what he was looking for.

“This one is a classic.”

“Dare I ask? Anyone who dyes their hair purple has to have questionable taste in music. If that’s Beethoven, you would have well and truly surprised me.” Shorter mocked hurt, slamming a hand to his heart and pouting like a kicked puppy.

“How can you say Billy Joel is bad music!?” Yut-Lung stared back at him.

“Who?” Shorter’s jaw immediately dropped into a gormless expression, and it was then that Yut-Lung knew he’d missed another pop-culture reference courtesy of his brothers.

“Billy Joel! Music extraordinaire! This CD was the first ever CD I bought in America. Well, Ash had to buy it because my English was bad, but I bought it with my own hard-earned cash.”

He opened a CD player that must have been linked to a speaker system around the restaurant Usually used for entertaining customers, now it was only for them in the strange intimacy of the place.

“There’s even a song that kind of reminds me of you!” Yut-Lung was immediately sceptical. When the speakers crackled and eventually burst to life, Yut-Lung was surprised to find that the song Shorter had been referring to was was upbeat. He didn’t think of himself as an upbeat kind of person. Shorter began to dance and bounce a little in place. Yut-Lung spoke over the volume of the speakers.

“Why does this song remind you of me?” On an everyday occasion, he wouldn’t have cared. He was used to brushing off people’s opinions of him, but this time, he was just a bit intrigued, and more than a little nervous to hear how Shorter regarded him.

“Well, that song is about a rich girl!”

“Oh for goodness-“ Yut-Lung exclaimed out loud, but Shorter held out a finger to silence him. Yut-Lung shocked himself by obeying. If anyone _dared_ to cross him like that at home, they would have lost that finger.

“It’s about a wealthy girl who falls in love with a boy from the wrong side of town. Even though he can’t give her everything, she has him smitten.” Yut-Lung flushed and felt all the blood in his head drain to his feet. The comparison was right in front of them, but it could have easily been just an observation. Yut-Lung barely moved. He could feel Shorter’s eyes burning a hole in the side of his head. He responded with an honesty that surprised himself.

“Well… the wealthy girl should know that there’s only so much material possessions can buy. If the poorer boy loves her, she should stay with him. It would be far more satisfying than owning all the things she could ever want.”

He was talking like an idiot. An idiot who let one stranger into his perfectly concealed facade after being shown the smallest inkling of kindness. He told himself there and then to not get attached to Shorter. After tonight, he would never see him again.

“I think the rich girl would be very wise to do that. The poor boy may not have much to give, but he wouldn’t let them starve. He’d work all day and night for her. And love her unconditionally.” Shorter had stopped dancing to simply regard him with those philosopher’s eyes of his. It felt like he was staring into his soul. Wasn’t it also Sun Tzu that said ‘when you let go of who you have become, you become what you might be’… or was that Lao Tzu? He couldn’t think about philosophy at a time like this. Yut-Lung met Shorter’s gaze and the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife. What that tension was, he didn’t know. But it was something.

The song acting as their background and talking point changed as it ended. The twanging trill of a harmonica played over the speakers, and Shorter’s mouth twitched upwards.

“This song reminds me of myself.” Yut-Lung could barely breath.

“Really?” Shorter held out a hand to him, palm upwards and inviting.

“Dance with me?” Yut-Lung regarded the hand, not with suspicion but with hopelessness.

“I-I don’t know how.” Shorter took a few paces forward with that hand still extended.

“That’s okay. It’s like riding the bike. You just have to hold onto me.”

Yut-Lung’s breathing quickened. If he took that hand, where would it lead him? He was so good at processing what he was feeling, but this was something he’d never experienced before. There was no ill intention behind that hand, just kindness. He wondered if maybe subconsciously Shorter knew what a bad day he’d had. Yut-Lung didn’t believe in angels. He’d seen too much for that. But the kindness of others never ceased to amaze him. Prioritising someone else over yourself. Why would you? Yet here he was, about to take a stranger’s hand for a dance.

“Okay.” He replied in practically a whisper.

As he stood, he felt the weight of an arm at his waist, comforting and strong in its conviction. Shorter guided one of Yut-Lung’s hands to his shoulder and clasped the other in his. It was so close and intimate. Yet, Yut-Lung didn’t feel scared or awkward. It was so often that the weight of another man’s arm on him meant pain, that this was unfamiliar and new. It secured him and didn’t make him fear for his safety. The carefully constructed mask of danger and mystery he tried so hard to maintain chipped away as they began to slowly rock from side to side in a crude dance. The singer’s voice made the song sound more like nostalgia than a new experience. Like returning to a place you had been before. Yut-Lung listened to the lyrics of the chorus.

“Why does that song remind you of yourself? Do you play the piano?” Yut-Lung asked. He didn’t realise how close they were until he looked up into Shorter’s face. The other chuckled deeply, and Yut-Lung could feel it rumble in his chest.

“No. But it’s about a man who just goes from day to day seeing the same people and trying to make them happy. That’s kind of what it’s like working here.”

A mischievous smirk crossed Shorter’s face, and he took Yut-Lung’s waist to spin them around the restaurant towards one of the tables. Yut-Lung let out a gasp of surprise.

“Just hold on, remember!” Shorter practically beamed as they danced closer to another table. “The man in the song knows everyone who comes to see him the same way I know everyone who comes into the restaurant! Right here,” he nodded to the nearby table. “Is where the Ng family always sit on a Wednesday before they drop the kids off to see their Ah Ma in the evenings.” He twirled them again, and Yut-Lung tightened his grip on his shoulder to keep himself from falling or tripping.

“Right here is where old Mr. Zhang always sits to read the paper on a Monday.” He gestured vaguely over to a booth in the corner. “Over there is where Doris, Angel and Alice sit to study and eat before their university classes.”

Yut-Lung listened with intent as Shorter described all his customers in such vivid detail it was as if they were sat in the room with them, watching two practical strangers dance around like fools. The song behind them began to swell and Shorter swayed them more vigorously to the beat.

“You serve every one of them?” Yut-Lung didn’t even notice he was smiling.

“They’re all my customers. Anyone who steps foot through our doors will leave with a full stomach.” He winked down at him. “Even the worst situations seem better when you’re nice and satisfied with hearty food. Everyone from the richest king to the poorest farmer can agree on that.”

Yut-Lung didn’t know how he did it. Didn’t know how he could stay so positive when sometimes life was so intent on knocking you down. Yut-Lung knew he couldn’t be like Shorter. He shouldn’t even be here, dancing with him, and enjoying being embraced by him. He brought nothing but bad news to everyone he met. Shorter didn’t deserve that. Yut-Lung knew he was utterly unworthy of his generosity and comfort. That didn’t mean that he never wanted it, however. Yut-Lung decided in that split second that he would enjoy this brief moment of happiness life had decided to grant him. Maybe it was a small apology for landing him in his familial predicament. A respite of sorts. Whatever it was, if luck was real, it had smiled upon him today. The song began to even out and slow again as Shorter took them both into one more lazy spin towards a small booth by the window.

“Right here.” He stated matter of factly. Yut-Lung hummed in a questioning manner.

“What?”

“This is where I would seat you.” Yut-Lung’s head snapped up with an intense look of sincerity at the strange intimacy of the statement. Shorter continued. “I would seat you here because the chairs are soft, and it’s by the window. One of my favourite things to is sit in this spot and watch the rain and just relax as I enjoy my food. You seem like you need to relax.”

The air between them became charged with energy as the song ended and silence overtook the restaurant. Shorter’s smile dropped into a look so sincere Yut-Lung thought his heart would burst.

“And if you sat there, I’d get to admire you from the kitchen as I worked and take pride when you enjoyed the food I cooked. That would be enough for me.”

Yut-Lung had seen men’s souls. Seen them bare before him before he ended their lives, seen them in the heat of passion, and seen them during unimaginable torture. But this was an experience so pure he felt worthless in this man’s presence. Never mind be admired by him. ‘That would be enough’. He didn’t want anything from him. He just wanted him to eat a good meal and be happy. Anything else was on his terms. Did people like Shorter really exist? Yut-Lung had thought they were myths. Legends to rouse people into compliance. But Shorter? He stood there, looking down at him, and Yut-Lung could see him so nervously waiting for his response. His heart beating against his ribcage as he swallowed down his nerves. Yut-Lung wondered what it would be like if he just…

Let go.

Yut-Lung moved his hand from Shorter’s shoulder to caress his cheek and then brush back some of his hair. It was coarse under the influence of the dye. In one motion he leaned up, and Shorter met him in the middle for a kiss. It was tame. Almost chaste. It gave Yut-Lung butterflies. It was a kiss he wanted and a kiss he gave from a heart he thought was long dead. It wasn’t taken from him as so many kisses were. It spoke the words ‘thank you’ and ‘I want you’ and ‘I’m sorry’ all at the same time. The desire to be close him almost shattered his fragile heart.

They broke from each other and Shorter rested his forehead against his.

“Is this okay?” Yut-Lung took his other arm to link his fingers at the back of Shorter’s neck, and breathed in a whisper.

“Yes.” Their lips met again, and Shorter took his waist to walk him backwards gently, ensuring he didn’t fall. Yut-Lung bumped the counter and Shorter lifted him to sit on it, their lips never once leaving each other. The chasteness of it grew into something new. It wasn’t lust, but passion. Passion to be close to one another, passion to feel and touch. Passion that was tentative and careful. Yut-Lung _wanted_ it. He threaded his fingers through Shorter’s hair, and in return, hands carefully caressed his face. Shorter’s body settled between his legs where he sat. He pulled away briefly and the other looked him in the eye.

“Do you… want to stay the night?” Yut-Lung didn’t trust his voice. He could only nod in affirmation.

Shorter smiled and began to pepper kisses down the column of his neck and across his jaw. Yut-Lung’s breath quickened and deepened all at once. He didn’t know that could feel _good._ The hands on him and the lips on him all felt _good._ Like they were meant to be there instead of turning up uninvited to steal his autonomy from him. He was in control. For _once_ , he was in control.

“Kiss me.” He breathed. And Shorter did. Every kiss they exchanged was electric. Charged with pent up energy. Beautiful.

_Ding._

Until that point, Yut-Lung didn’t know how one simple sound could result in such terror. Now he knew, he never wanted to experience it again. He whipped his head up towards the door of the restaurant where Wang Lung’s imposing figure stood with his bodyguards. Yut-Lung’s eyes widened to the size of saucers and his whole being curled in on itself. They shouldn’t be here like this. They shouldn’t be ruining what little happiness Yut-Lung had found himself. Shouldn’t be staring into his open soul. Yet here they were, like mangey dogs constantly hunting him down. Ready to tear him limb from limb.

Shorter turned from where he had his back to them.

“Um, excuse me, but we’re closed.” Yut-Lung wanted to reach out and tell him to stop. To protect him. But it was all too late. Wang Lung looked down at Shorter as if he were nothing more than the dirt on his shoe.

“I’m here to collect my brother. He should have been home hours ago.” Shorter whipped his head from Wang Lung to Yut-Lung.

“Is he really your brother? How did he even know you were here? You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to.” Oh, but he did. If only Shorter knew how little of a choice he had. Wang Lung knew it. His snake-like eyes darting between them inevitably waiting for the moment Yut-Lung would give in and their little game of cat and mouse would be over.

“He… He is. I’m sorry, I’ve caused you so much trouble. I have to go.”

The look of hurt and helplessness on Shorter’s face was almost too much to bear. He reached out for his hand, but Yut-Lung pulled it back. It was to protect him, but it was unbearable at the same time. It was a torture he’d have to endure. Shorter shot a glare at Wang Lung before going to the radiator.

“I’ll get your coat.” As he left, Wang Lung leaned into Yut-Lung’s ear, the words he whispered were like deadly venom.

“If I ever catch you here again, I will not give him the pleasure of living another day. Do you understand me, slut?” Yut-Lung didn’t give a verbal reply. In just two minutes of seeing them together Wang Lung knew what Shorter meant to him. He was freedom he’d never experienced. He was a comfort outside the Lee family circle. Most of all, he was a reason to run. Wang Lung knew Yut-Lung would obey him. If only to keep the tiny hope they would see each other again alive.

Shorter handed Yut-Lung back his coat. He then turned to face Wang Lung with hard eyes, the other offered up a sickly-sweet smile, managing to get his own words in first.

“Thank you for taking care of him, Mr…” Yut-Lung mentally begged Shorter not to give up his name.

“Wong.” The poor man had no idea he’d just signed his death sentence. “You are welcome back to the Chang Dai at any time, sir.”

“And a pleasure it would be, Mr. Wong.”

Wang Lung took Yut-Lung’s wrist in his iron grip, and just as quickly as he arrived, he was being dragged outside again. He spared one last look at Shorter. The only one who had ever made him feel, and tried to commit his face to memory before the front door of the Chang Dai swung shut.

And he was gone.

The rest of the night was a blur. Yut-Lung was bundled into a sleek black car and they were driving to the hotel. Wang Lung said nothing. He had made his point of view perfectly clear. If Yut-Lung returned ever met Shorter again, Shorter would die. He was nothing but a memory now.

Yut-Lung was locked in his hotel room that night. It was incredible how even the most luxurious room could feel like a prison if one simply locked the door. He began to remove his now dry jacket when he felt something hard in the left pocket. He thought it was his bottle of perfume, but it was too flat. His brow furrowed when he felt for it and tried to figure out what it was. When he pulled it out, he swore he stopped breathing. There in his hands he held the Billy Joel CD he and Shorter so lovingly danced to. Yut-Lung held it to his heart, as if he could bring Shorter back by will alone. This small object was the only memory of the night he had. A night that convinced him that maybe there were good people out there.

He fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, listening to the swelling melody and lyrics, and replaying the night over and over again in his mind. The memory of the boy in Chinatown who had given him a chance. If nothing else. He would hold onto that.


End file.
